Fangs A Lot, Or Excuse Me While I Bite Your Neck
by TheOtherLopez
Summary: Marco's sister, recently arrived from Montana, plays the ultimate Halloween prank on Chet.


**Fang's A Lot**

**OR**

**Excuse Me While I Bite Your Neck**

**An Original Halloween Story**

**October 15**

Louisa Martin Lopez breezed into Station 51, a wide smile on her face. She slowly crept up behind Mike Stoker, the station's capable engineer, who was calmly polishing Big Red. Some sixth sense alerted Stoker to the young woman's presence, because just as she reached up to place her hands over his eyes, he whirled around.

"And just what do you think you're doing, young lady?" he teased.

Louisa jumped back, uttering a startled cry. "Geez, Mike!" she yelped. "How did you know I was behind you?"

Stoker grinned wickedly. "I heard your car when you pulled in, that's how. Aren't you a little **old** to be sneaking up behind people?"

Louisa mirrored the engineer's grin. "Did anyone ever tell you that you have the reflexes of a cat? As for being too old, no one is **ever** too old for Halloween, Mikey!"

"So that's what this is all about, huh? Cap said you were making plans for the holiday."

"You better believe it!" said Louisa. She looked over her shoulder to make sure they were alone in the bay. "How would you like to help me out-phantom the Phantom?" she asked softly.

"What did you have in mind?" asked Mike. "It better be good, considering how much Chet gets into Halloween. He won't be easy to fool, you know."

"Trust me, Mike, this will be one Halloween Chester B. Kelly will **never** forget, even if he lives to be 100."

"Did I hear someone mention my name?" said Chet, walking into the bay. "Well, hello there, Louisa! What brings you to our lovely station?"

"I guess I can't resist slightly cracked Irish firemen, Chet," answered Louisa, a tinge of sarcasm coloring her voice. "Where's Hank?"

"In the office, doing paperwork, as always," replied Kelly. "Hey, are you doing anything for Halloween? I'm thinking about throwing a party."

"Sounds like fun, Chet; I'll let you know," answered Louisa, throwing Mike a conspiratorial look. "See you later, guys."

Hank looked up when his girlfriend entered his office. "Hi, gorgeous. What's up?" said the Captain with a smile.

"Nothing much. I was in the neighborhood and decided to drop in and make sure you were behaving."

"Me?" questioned the Captain, pretending to be shocked. "I'll have you know, I'm being a perfect angel today."

"Uh huh. That means only one thing, hose jockey. Chet and Johnny haven't started their argument of the day yet," chuckled the young woman.

Hank laughed. "They haven't. Kelly is too busy planning his Halloween party. Did he ask you about it yet?"

"Yeah, he did. I'm planning something myself, my dear. Something that will make Chester B. Kelly think twice before playing another prank on **me **as long as he lives."

"I'm almost afraid to ask," said Hank. "Well, don't keep me in suspense. What are you going to do?"

"You'll find out soon enough, Captain. I want to get the other guys in on it, too. That way, no one will give me away, since you'll all know the plan."

Hank started to reply, but was interrupted by the klaxon. "Gotta go, honey. I'll call you in the morning when I get home."

"All right, Hank," Louisa called after him. The young woman's lips turned up in a wicked smile as she contemplated the prank she had planned for Chet Kelly. "Chet, you are in for one Hell of a surprise, my friend," she said to herself.

**The Next Morning**

The crew of Station 51's A-shift was seated around a table at their favorite diner, Billy's, waiting for Louisa to show up.

"Come on, Cap," said John Gage, " you **have** to know why Louisa wanted us to meet her here."

"She didn't tell me a thing, Gage. All I know is that it has something to do with Halloween," answered the Captain.

"Then why isn't Kelly here?" questioned Roy Desoto.

"I can answer that," said Louisa as she dropped into a chair beside her brother, Marco Lopez. "I'm planning on playing the **mother** of all pranks on our friend Mr. Kelly. I owe him for putting that dead rat in my glove compartment last week. It took a **lot** of cleaning to get rid of the smell."

Gage raised an eyebrow. "Okay, you've got my attention. What's the plan?"

Louisa grinned wickedly. "Before I go into detail, I have to warn you that secrecy is a must. Anyone who can't keep this to themselves, speak up now."

No one spoke. "Okay, then. Here's the plan." The men leaned forward as the young woman outlined what she was going to do. When she finished, Johnny burst out laughing.

"Oh, **man**!" he chuckled. "Chet won't know what hit him! Count me in, Lou!"

"How are you going to pull this off?" asked Mike. "Seems kinda complicated."

"I have a friend who works in the make-up and special effects department of Mammoth Studios," answered Louisa. "She promised to help me look the part, right down to the last detail. She's worked on several horror movies, so she can set us up with whatever we need."

"Shouldn't we let Brackett and Dixie in on this, too?" asked Roy. "You know, just to heighten the effect a bit?"

"Desoto, you're a genius!" cried Louisa. "I know for a **fact** that Dr. Brackett wasn't very pleased with Chet when he got caught in the middle of that last fiasco Kelly pulled. I'm sure he'd be willing to help!"

Marco flung an arm around his sister's shoulders and grinned. "I'm just glad you're not gunning for me, little sister! Your plan is absolutely evil!"

The group sat and talked for another hour, outlining the details of Louisa's plan and planning their roles in the elaborate prank. Before they departed, the young woman cautioned them to kept Chet in the dark. "If Chet finds out about this before the party, all will be ruined, so keep your mouths shut!" she emphasized.

"Man, I can't **wait** to see the look on Kelly's face when he figures out he's been had!" grinned Johnny.

"Bring your camera, Johnny, because I want to preserve that moment," said Louisa.

"You're going to do **what**?!" asked Kelly Brackett. "How exactly do Dixie and I fit into all of this?"

"You'll be there to confirm a few things, Doc," answered Louisa. "If it comes from **you**, Chet will have to believe it. Come on, what do you say?"

"Count me in, Louisa," put in Dixie McCall, Rampart's head nurse. "It sounds like a lot of fun."

"No one is **really** going to be hurt, right?" questioned the doctor.

"The only person feeling any pain will be me, when you draw some blood out of my arm. Chet will get a little freaked out, but I won't inflict any **physical** damage on him."

Brackett chuckled. "All right. Count me in, too. Just tell me what I have to do."

For the second time that day, Louisa outlined her plan. Kel and Dixie grinned in anticipation at the thought of Chet Kelly being given a taste of his own medicine.

**October 24**

"Louisa, how in the world did you convince Chet to move the party **here**?" asked John Gage, looking around the deserted old house.

"A little persuasion can go a long way, Johnny," replied the young woman. "I told him that atmosphere can make or break a party. He jumped at the chance to hold his little shindig in a supposedly haunted house."

"This old dump sure looks like it could house a few ghosts," commented Roy Desoto, wiping a hand across a dusty table. "It reminds me of Dracula's castle."

"That's the whole point, Roy," grinned Louisa. "I had a friend of mine hammer together a few old-style coffins for the basement. He even volunteered to play the part of my 'creator'."

"So, what needs to be done?" asked Mike Stoker.

"Once Trent gets here, he's going to rig the lights to flicker at will. I thought he would be the best choice, considering he's an electrician. He's in on the prank, too, by the way. **He** is the one who is going to 'vamp' me, so to speak."

"You've got this down to the smallest detail," said Hank. "I just hope I can look surprised enough when it all goes down."

"Just do exactly what I told you to, and everything will run as smooth as silk," said Louisa. She looked up as a truck pulled up in front of the old house. "That's Trent. Let's give him a hand bringing in his equipment."

Two hours later, everything was in place. Trent had tested the lights to make sure they worked the way Louisa wanted them to and made a few adjustments along the way. The conspirators left the run-down old mansion, confident that, in seven short days, Chet Kelly would think twice before playing another prank.

**October 31, Halloween**

"I have to admit, Louisa, this place is the **perfect** place for a Halloween party," said Chet Kelly, looking around him.

"Didn't I tell you?" replied Louisa with a grin. "I'm just glad the reputation of this place didn't scare you away."

"What are you talking about?" questioned the Irishman.

"You mean you don't know?" gasped Louisa, turning pale. "Charles Dunmire, that guy who was in all those vampire movies back in the 50's, lived here until he mysteriously disappeared a couple years ago." She glanced around, swallowing nervously, playing her part to the hilt. "He really thought he was a vampire, you know. I heard from a very reliable source that he bit some girl in the basement and killed her!" she whispered.

Chet stared at her wide-eyed. "Are you serious?" he gasped. "The guy thought he was a vampire?"

Louisa nodded convincingly. "He kept his coffin in the cellar, too," she said, thoroughly enjoying the Irishman's terrified expression, but not letting it show. "I bet you anything it's still down there, too."

"What's still down where?" asked Hank Stanley, coming up behind them.

"Charles Dunmire's coffin, Hank," answered Louisa. "You remember all the stories about him, don't you?"

"About him killing that girl so he could drink her blood? I sure have. I heard he died, but they never found his body," replied the Captain.

"Rumor has it that he's still in this house, Hank," said Louisa. "Searching for his next victim."

"Nah, there's no such things as vampires," muttered Chet. "The guy probably packed up and left or something."

"No such things, huh?" demanded Louisa. "Why don't we ask Dr. Brackett? I'll bet **he** would know."

They went in search of the doctor, drawing stares from the other guests. "What the heck are they gawking at?" muttered Louisa grumpily.

"Maybe because you're showing a lot of cleavage?" commented Chet. He gestured to the young woman's extremely low-cut wench costume. "Good thing this party is adults only," he grinned.

"Maybe it's that stupid Long John Silver outfit **you're **wearing, Chester," retorted Louisa. "I hate to tell you this, but your parrot is molting," she chuckled, picking a feather off his sleeve.

"Hey, Lou! Great costume!" shouted John Gage from across the room. Where's the rest of it?"

"Very funny, Johnny," teased Louisa. "Probably in the same place you left your mustache, Rhett Butler!"

The paramedic grumbled something unintelligible, looking down at the ground for his lost facial hair.

"There he is!" crowed the young woman, pointing over in the corner. "Dr. Brackett! We need you to settle an argument for us."

"Sure," replied the doctor, trying not to stare at Louisa's half-exposed breasts.

"Chet here says that there is no such thing as a vampire, and I say there is," said the young woman. "Who's right?"

Brackett paused, as if trying to remember. "Well, actually," he said, "vampires in some form **do** exist. I've read several accounts of people drinking human blood in order to survive. The man who owned this house, for instance. Now, what was his name?" he wondered, stroking his chin with a finger.

"Charles Dunmire," put in Louisa.

"Right, Charles Dunmire," confirmed Brackett. "He vanished without a trace a few years ago. His body was never found, either."

"Come on, Doc," grinned the Irishman. "You're just pulling my leg...aren't you?"

"It's documented fact, Chet. Dunmire murdered a young lady, just about Louisa's age, right here in this house. He confessed that he drank her blood to keep himself alive."

"How come I never heard of this guy?" demanded Chet.

"Because it was hushed up, Chet," said Dixie, who had been standing beside Brackett the whole time. "Dunmire paid a small fortune to keep it out of the newspapers."

The assembled guests looked up as the lights flickered. _*"Right on cue,"*_ thought Louisa. _*"Good going, Trent!"*_

"Now why did that happen?" asked Chet. "The lights were working just fine when I was here earlier setting up for the party."

"It's probably a fuse, Chet," said Louisa. "I'll go downstairs and see if I can find the problem."

"Go downstairs where?" gulped the Irishman.

The young woman uttered an exasperated sigh and planted her hands on her hips. "Downstairs in the **basement**, hose jockey! Where **else** would the fuse box be?"

"Um, maybe you shouldn't go alone. Who knows what's down there?" stammered Chet.

"Lots of scary stuff," grinned Louisa. "Probably an old coal stove. What's the matter, Chester? Afraid Charles Dunmire might be down there?"

"**You're** the one who brought him up, Lou. Go ahead. But don't say I didn't warn you."

"Fine. Give me a flashlight, chicken. I'm not afraid of an old nutcase who thought he was a vampire."

The Irishman handed the young woman a flashlight and watched as she crossed the room and opened the door leading to the basement. He looked around at his guests, wondering if one of them was going to follow her.

The lights flickered again, electricity crackling faintly. They came back on for an instant, only to go out completely, leaving the old house in total darkness. The guests heard Louisa's voice as she muttered to herself, wondering where the fuse box was located. Her words grew faint, then stopped. She gasped suddenly, then her voice rang out in a blood-curdling scream of utter terror.

"Louisa!" Shouted Chet, running to the opened door. "Are you all right? What happened?"

The young woman didn't answer. The characteristic sounds of a struggle drifted up from the cellar, followed by the thud of a body hitting the floor.

"Gage! Desoto! Let's go!" shouted Brackett. "Louisa could be hurt!"

The trio ran down the stairs, their eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. They walked slowly across the cellar floor, searching for the young woman. Johnny gasped when he felt his foot strike something soft. The paramedic bent down, trying to locate what he had hit.

"Here, Johnny, use this," said Roy, handing Gage a penlight. Johnny turned it on, drawing back in shock when the narrow beam revealed Louisa sprawled out on the earthen floor, unconscious.

"My God! What the heck is **that** on her neck?" questioned Roy. "It almost looks like she was...**bitten**!" He pointed out two bloody holes side by side just over Louisa's carotid artery.

"Let's get her upstairs," ordered Dr. Brackett. "Somebody get these lights back on."

At that moment, the lamps flickered, then stayed on, filling the room with harsh, glaring light. The men carried Louisa up the stairs and laid her down on a sheet-covered sofa near the back of the main room.

"What's that?" asked Marco, pointing to his sister's throat. "Are they what I **think** they are?" he gasped, his face turning white.

"Fang marks," confirmed Brackett. "Without a doubt." He looked up. "Roy, you and Gage go down and see if there's anyone else in that basement.

The paramedics returned a few minutes later, looking very pale and shaken. "Doc, you're not gonna believe this," stammered Johnny, "but there's an empty coffin in the corner of the room down there." He swallowed loudly. "And a pool of blood where we found Lou."

"Dix, go get my bag out of the trunk," said the doctor. "I'll bandage those wounds. After she comes around, we'll take her to Rampart," he added, bowing his head to hide his smile.

"A coffin?" asked Chet incredulously. "Gage, you're off your nut. There's nothing down there. You probably saw an old packing crate or something."

"If you don't believe me, go look for yourself," snarled Gage. "Packing crates don't have satin linings, last I knew."

"I think I will. Come on, Marco."

"Me?" No way, Chet," answered Lopez, making the sign of the cross on his chest.

"I'll go with you, Kelly," said Mike Stoker. He gave his shift-mate a shove, then followed him down the cellar steps.

Louisa waited until she heard Mike and Chet's footsteps fade, then opened her eyes. "He bought it!" she whispered gleefully. "Okay, where are those fangs I gave you, Hank?" She took the teeth and positioned them in her mouth. "How do they look? Realistic enough to scare the pants off a certain Irishman? Now the white powder. Fast, before they get back!"

Dixie returned, carrying Brackett's medical bag. The nurse stepped back in surprise as Louisa flashed her newly-acquired dental appliance at her. "My God, Louisa," she gasped, "they** do **look real!"

"They should, Miss McCall. I had a dentist friend of mine make them."

Brackett quickly bandaged the fake wounds on the young woman's neck, taping the end of the gauze in place seconds before Stoker and Kelly came back into the room.

Chet's eyes widened when his eyes settled on Louisa's face. "What's wrong with her? She's so pale!"

"Classic sign of vampirism, Chet," growled Dr. Brackett. He reared back when Louisa's eyes flew open. Her irises glowed an eerie shade of red, thanks to the cosmetic lenses her make-up artist friend had inserted while she was still in the cellar.

"Everyone get back!" cautioned Roy. "Louisa, it's okay. We're your friends."

The young woman hissed viciously at the paramedic, revealing the razor-sharp fangs in her mouth. She sat up and got to her feet, running across the room and vanishing upstairs.

"Uh, wha-what do we do now, Cap?" asked Marco, playing along with his sister's prank. "Should we go after her?"

"I strongly advise against that, Marco," said Dr. Brackett. "If she bit one of you..."

"We can't just **leave** her here!" exclaimed Hank. "Isn't there something you can do, Doc?"

"I'm afraid not, Captain. So far, medical science hasn't been able to find a cure for this condition. If I remember correctly, there are only two fool-proof ways to dispose of a vampire. A stake through the heart, or exposure to direct sunlight."

"No!" shouted the Captain. "I won't let you kill Louisa, no matter **what** she is now! Just forget it!"

Across the room, Joanne Desoto screamed, riveting everyone's attention. "I heard something on the stairs!" She cried, pointing to the still-open cellar door.

"I think now would be a good time to end this party, people!" said Dr. Brackett. "Everyone, get your coats and get out of here immediately!" he ordered.

Before anyone could react to the doctor's command, a tall, white-faced figure dressed completely in black appeared in the doorway. The figure's lips were stained with blood, streaks of it painting his chin. It raised its arms, as if reaching for another victim. Piercing shrieks echoed throughout the mansion, and the party guests scrambled for the front door.

"What the Hell is **that**?" hollered Chet. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm out of here!" The Irishman turned and fled, screaming at the top of his lungs in sheer terror. When he reached his van, Chet threw open the door and frantically keyed the ignition. Gravel scattered in all directions as the rusty vehicle sped down the driveway and out onto the narrow dirt road leading to the old house.

Brackett, Dixie, and the rest of Station 51's crew remained behind, struggling to control their laughter. Louisa appeared at the top of the staircase, grinning manically.

"I don't think I've **ever** seen Chet move that fast," she cackled. "Trent, you were **great**!" she said to the figure dressed in black.

"Thanks, Lou," answered the figure, removing his mask to reveal his identity: Trent Fisher.

"Man, you even had **me** scared," laughed Johnny. "Louisa, I gotta hand it to you. This is one prank no one will ever top, not in a million years."

"Okay, now for phase two," answered Louisa. "When you guys go on shift tomorrow, make sure you tell Chet that you left me here. I'll wait until sundown, and then make my next appearance."

"Where will that be?" asked Dixie.

The young woman grinned wickedly. "Standing at the foot of Mr. Kelly's bunk, in full regalia," she said. "Mike, since you bear the last name of a famous vampire writer, I'm going to give **you** the honor of 'killing' me. Trent, go get Madeline so she can give Mike some pointers on how to make it look authentic."

"How will that work?" wondered Marco, grinning from ear to ear.

"Maddy is a wiz at special effects. She'll put some padding and a blood pack on my chest so that it will look like the stake has actually gone **through** my heart. At least the blood will be real. I had Dr. Brackett siphon off a pint the day I told him what I was planning."

"We better keep the defibrillator handy in case Chet goes into cardiac arrest," joked Roy, drawing loud laughter.

Trent returned with a tall, blonde woman in tow. "Everyone, this is Madeline Hughes."

"Hello," she said. "Okay, which of you is going to deliver the 'fatal' blow?"

"I am," replied Mike, stepping forward.

"Great. Louisa, let me fix you up with the padding so we can show your friend how to 'stake' you without actually inflicting any damage."

Within minutes, the device was in place, and Madeline instructed the engineer where to insert the stake. Stoker thrust the wooden object into the spot Madeline pointed out, and red liquid poured out. Louisa dropped to the floor, her hands wrapped around the wooden stake.

"If I didn't know this was a trick, I'd swear that Lou just took a stake through the heart," marveled Brackett. "Amazing. Even the blood looks real, even though I know it's not."

"It's not?" asked Johnny, perplexed.

"No," answered Madeline. "We're saving the real thing for tomorrow night."

"Okay, you guys," said Louisa, rising to her feet, "get going. When you get to work in the morning, act shell-shocked so Chet won't get suspicious."

"Let's go men," ordered Hank. "Are you staying here tonight, Lou?"

"That was the plan, Hank. In case Chet decides to come back and investigate, we want to make sure we're here to 'greet' him."

"Hey, Lou? I just have one question," said Johnny. "Can those fangs **really** break the skin?"

The young woman grinned. "You want me to bite you so you can find out? They're made from the same stuff dentists use to make dentures."

"I'll take your word for it," chuckled the paramedic. "See you tomorrow night."

The men left. Dr. Brackett and Dixie remained behind, congratulating Louisa on her prank. "This is definitely one Halloween **I'll** never forget," commented Dixie. "It was an honor to be part of it."

"Same here," put in the doctor. "Good night."

Louisa, Trent, and Madeline went upstairs to find a suitable place to bed down for the night. The three friends talked and laughed well into the night, finally settling down as the sun peeked over the horizon.

**November 1**

Chet Kelly walked into Station 51, looking as if he hadn't slept in a week. The Irishman's eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot from fatigue. Faint stubble covered his jaw and his curly hair stuck out in all directions. He entered the dayroom and poured himself a cup of much-needed coffee, then sat down at the table.

"Morning, Chet," greeted John Gage as he sauntered in. The paramedic stopped short when he saw his shift-mate's disheveled condition. "You okay, man?" he asked.

"No, Gage, I'm **not** okay," muttered Chet. "I didn't sleep a wink last night, worrying about Louisa." He pounded a fist on the table. "There has to be **something** we can do. We can't just leave her there in that place."

"We didn't have much of a choice, pal," put in Captain Stanley. "I don't know about you, but I was running for my life!"

"I still feel guilty, though," answered Kelly. "Poor Louisa. She's gotta spend eternity walking the Earth in search of blood just to stay alive."

Mike Stoker stood in the doorway, fighting to keep from laughing and giving away the prank. "I didn't see **you** trying to help her, Kelly!" he growled.

"What was I supposed to do, Mike?" replied the Irishman hotly. He dropped his head into his hands, his eyes focused on the table's gleaming surface. "This is all my fault," he lamented. "If I hadn't thrown that party, none of this would have happened."

"Don't beat yourself up about it, _amigo_," said Marco, patting his friend's shoulder. "You couldn't have known that there was a vampire lurking in the cellar."

"I don't care what **any** of you guys say! I'm going back there when we go off-duty tomorrow and prevent this from ever happening again!"

"What are you going to do, pal?" asked Hank, giving his crew a worried look. "It's not safe, Chet."

"I'm gonna nail that creep's coffin shut!" spat Kelly. He got up from the table and stormed out of the room.

"Great!" muttered Johnny. "If he does that, it'll ruin everything. We have to talk him out of it!"

"Yeah, but how?" asked Mike.

"We'll think of something," replied Gage. "Hey, Roy," he said to Desoto as the senior paramedic arrived. "I think we better talk to Brackett. Come on; let's head over to Rampart."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much," said Brackett when Roy and John filled him in about Chet's plans. "After all, isn't Louisa going to show up at the station tonight?"

"That was the plan, Doc," answered Roy. "I just hope we're not out on a run when she does."

"Tell you what, I'm off-duty at noon. I'll go over to that house and warn Louisa," said the doctor.

Before the paramedics could reply, the handy-talkie in Johnny's hand crackled to life. "Squad 51, man down, 2125 Crossett Boulevard; 2-1-2-5 Crossett, cross street Olympia, time out 08:45."

"Gotta run. See you later, Doc."

The doctor sighed, running a hand through his thick, dark hair. "This prank is getting out of hand," he said to himself.

At noon, Brackett left the hospital and drove out to the old mansion where the Halloween party had been held the night before. He knocked on the front door and pushed it open. "Louisa! Are you here?" he shouted, his voice echoing eerily.

"Velcome to my lair," said Louisa, coming up behind him. "What's up, Doc?"

"Gage and Desoto dropped by my office earlier," answered Brackett. "Chet Kelly is planning on coming here tomorrow morning after their shift ends."

"So what's the problem?" asked the young woman, frowning slightly. "By that time, he'll know it was all an elaborate hoax."

"I just thought I should warn you. What time are you supposed to show up for your nightly 'feeding'?"

"I thought maybe around 11 o'clock. The guys should be asleep by then." Louisa grinned, revealing the fangs she had neglected to remove the night before. "Chester B. Kelly will never know what hit him!"

Brackett laughed. "I'll expect a full report tomorrow morning," he said. "And don't leave out any details."

"You got it! I told Johnny to keep his camera handy, so we can have a few photographs to remember this by."

"I better get going," said Brackett, looking at his watch. "I promised to take Dixie to the beach this afternoon. See you later."

The day passed slowly for the crew of Station 51. Between the few calls they received, Chet prowled around nervously, jumping at every creak and groan he heard. By nightfall, the Irishman was thoroughly exhausted.

"I think I'll go to bed," he said, yawning loudly. Good night."

"Night, Chet," echoed the men. Johnny got up and stood in the doorway, watching as Chet went into the dorm, already unbuttoning his shirt.

"Okay, it's almost 10 o'clock," whispered the paramedic. "Lou should be here in about an hour. That should give us enough time to settle in and make Kelly believe that we're all asleep. Is everyone clear on what we're supposed to do?"

"Yeah, Gage," answered Hank. "We've already gone over it a dozen times. We pretend to be sleeping and when Chet tries to wake us up, we don't budge."

"I'm all set," grinned Stoker. "I have the stake under my bunk, so I can grab it in a hurry. I just hope I don't miss and injure Louisa!"

"All you have to do is remember where the padding is, pal," replied Hank, his eyes full of delighted mischief. "As long as we don't get a call, everything will go as planned."

The men waited another half-hour before turning in. They lay awake, feigning snores and eagerly anticipating Louisa's arrival and the climax of the prank.

A few minutes past 11 o'clock, shuffling footsteps were heard out in the bay. Seconds later, the door to the dorm opened and Louisa, dressed in full vampire regalia, entered the darkened room. She slowly approached Chet's bunk and stood over him silently, a smile crossing her ghostly-white features.

"Chester," she called softly. "Chester B. Kelly, the time has come for you to pay for awakening my master from his long sleep."

Chet rolled over in bed, mumbling unintelligibly. The sheets rustled as he turned over.

Louisa laughed silently then spoke again. "Chester," she said a little louder, "you must pay for your misdeed."

Kelly groaned in annoyance and opened his eyes. "Pay for my **what**?" he uttered groggily, his voice cutting off when he saw the figure standing at the foot of his bunk. The Irishman's face paled when he recognized Louisa.

"Your misdeed, Chester," replied Louisa, adopting a throaty growl. "You awakened my master from his long slumber. Now you must suffer the same fate I now endure." She leaned forward, grinning malevolently, her razor-sharp fangs gleaming faintly in the near-dark.

"I...I d-didn't m-m-mean to. I-it w-was an acc-accident," said Chet, his voice trembling. "I swear it was!" He scanned the other bunks, praying that one of his shift-mates was awake and could help him. "Come on, you guys! Help me!"

"They can't hear you," said Louisa. "They are under my power. **No one** can help you."

"I didn't know there was a vampire in that house, Louisa! I swear to God I didn't know!"

"That makes no difference, Chester," retorted Louisa. "You must join us in our doomed existence." The young woman bent closer, pressing her forearm against the Irishman's chest, pinning him to the mattress.

"No!" screamed Chet as her fangs touched his neck. He struggled, but couldn't gain enough leverage to break free. "Please! Don't ! I'll do anything you ask! Just don't turn me into a bloodsucker."

"Hey! What's going on over there?!" yelled Mike. "Chet, shut up and go to sleep, will ya?"

"Mike! For God's sake, help me!" wailed Chet. "Louisa's gonna kill me!"

Stoker leaped out of his bunk, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. His eyes widened when he saw Louisa pressing her lips against Kelly's neck. He reached under his bed and pulled out the prop stake. He sped forward, bumping against the young woman and knocking her away from the Irishman.

"Die, you bloodsucking bitch from Hell!" he bellowed, ramming the sharpened column of wood into Louisa's padded chest, striking the blood pack in the exact center. Dark-red blood spewed from the 'wound' as the stake went through and came out the back of her body. The young woman collapsed on the floor, writhing in apparent agony. An unearthly shriek erupted from her throat, then died away to a gurgle.

"My God, Stoker! You **killed** her!" screamed Chet, staring in horror at the still figure lying on the floor. "That's **murder**!"

"What was I supposed to do, Chet? Let her bite you?" growled Mike.

The Irishman's mouth worked, but no sound emerged. He struggled to his feet and ran shakily to the latrine. He dropped to his knees and retched violently.

"What's going on?" muttered Johnny, sitting up in bed. He lowered his voice. "Did it work?"

"Like a charm," grinned Mike in an equally low tone.

Chet returned, moaning as he leaned against the doorjamb. "What do we do now?" he whimpered. "We have to do something! She **can't** really be dead."

"Get a grip, Kelly," ordered Hank. He walked over to the man and gently guided him through the bay and into the dayroom. "Here, pal, have a seat. I'll be right back."

"Why isn't she moving?" said Roy as he bent over the young woman's motionless form. "Mike, are you **sure** you hit the right spot?"

"Of course I'm sure!" retorted the engineer. "Do you think that maybe she hit her head when she fell?"

Louisa listened silently as the men talked above her. She became aware of a slight vibration moving through the floor beneath her. *_"About damn time you decided to show up, Trent!"*_ she thought to herself.

Seconds later, a scream of raw horror sounded from the dayroom. The men ran out of the dorm, colliding with Chet, who scrambled into the bay with his curly hair standing on end. "There's another one in the kitchen!" he bellowed. "He tried to grab me!"

At that moment, a white-faced figure dressed all in black appeared in the doorway. Trickles of dried blood ran from the corners of the figure's mouth. It lifted corpse-white hands towards the men and uttered an unearthly groan.

"What in Heaven's name is **that**?!" shouted Hank, backing away slowly.

Behind them, the door leading into the dorm creaked open. Louisa appeared, blood staining the front of her blouse. She hissed, baring her razor-sharp fangs and reached to grab a handful of Roy's hair. "I'm huuuungry," she moaned, pulling the senior paramedic towards her. Desoto wailed in fear when he felt the young woman's teeth sink into his neck. His eyes rolled back in their sockets and he collapsed.

Chet shrieked like a girl and fled in blind terror. In his panic, he ran straight into the black-clad figure. The figure held tight to the Irishman's arms and laughed evilly, its voice echoing off the structure's brick walls.

The bay's over-head door began to rise, slowly revealing Chief McConikee. He stared incredulously at the scene before him and stuck a hand under his shirt, pulling out a shiny silver crucifix. The Chief raised the holy object and advanced on the figure holding Kelly in its grasp.

"To Hell with Ye, unclean spirit," he thundered, pressing the crucifix against the creature's face. It wailed and its hands flew open, released Chet, who dropped like a stone.

At that instant, Louisa broke out of her act, laughing hysterically. The black-clad figure joined in, reaching up and pulling a realistic-looking rubber mask from its face.

"Wait a minute," interjected Marco, "what are you doing here, Chief?"

McConikee grinned. "Miss Martin asked me to help her and her friend out with this part of their prank," he informed the men. "She asked me to keep my participation a secret until just now."

Chet sat up, still shaking. "You mean this was all a **prank**?" he accused.

"It sure was, Chester," Louisa gasped breathlessly, "and you fell for it, hook, line, and sinker."

"But what about Roy?" asked the Irishman. "I **saw** you bite him."

"All an illusion," smiled Desoto, getting to his feet. "He swiped a hand over his neck. "See? Stage blood."

"I had a blood capsule hidden in my mouth the whole time, Chet."

"Then who's **this** character?" said Chet, jerking a thumb at the other figure.

"Trent Fisher, at your service. Lou and I are old friends. I'm the one who rigged the lights at that old mansion to flicker **and** staged the phony struggle you all heard when she went into the cellar."

"So that's why you wanted me to have my party at that dump," mused Chet. "But why go to all this trouble?"

"To make you think twice before you pull the dead-rat-in-the-glove-compartment on someone else," said Louisa, still laughing. "Chet, don't tell me you actually **believe** in vampires? Even you can't be that superstitious."

"Well, I guess I don't, not really," admitted Kelly. He grinned and dropped to his knees in front of the young woman. "I hereby proclaim Miss Louisa Martin Lopez the Queen of the Pranksters. I bow to your creativity, not to mention your sneakiness."

The young woman placed a hand on the man's head. "Rise, peasant, and greet your Mistress." She grinned ghoulishly, flashing her fangs. "Happy Halloween, Chester. You certainly made it a night to remember. I don't think I've **ever** heard anyone scream that loud in my entire life."

"It helps if you're scared out of your wits," grinned Chet. "But just wait until next year, O Great One," he warned. "I plan to get even."

"Dream on, Kelly," snorted Johnny. "This is one prank you'll **never** top, not in a million years."

"Don't count on it, Gage," retorted Chet. He slid an arm around Louisa's shoulders, steering her towards the kitchen. "Come on, Lou. I wanna know exactly how you carried this out, down to the smallest detail."

"My pleasure, my friend," answered Louisa. "Maybe you and I could work together next year." Their voices faded as they walked into the dayroom.

Hank rolled his eyes in exasperation. "With those two working together, **next** Halloween will be a killer. We better watch our backs, gentlemen. Who knows what they'll cook up?"

_The End_

_This story came to me after reading several very fine Halloween-themed Emergency! stories on the Internet. I played upon Chet Kelly's love of horror movies and wondered how he might react if he found himself in that type of scenario. This story was the result. I hope everyone enjoyed reading it._

_Disclaimer_: The guys aren't mine. I just borrowed them for this story. All original characters are the product of my imagination and may not be used without my permission.


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